


A Most Regrettable Argument

by jor77



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Robin!Jay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jor77/pseuds/jor77
Summary: Jason and Bruce have an argument in which Bruce says something he'll regret for so many reasons.





	A Most Regrettable Argument

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST BRUCE YOU MAKE ME WANNA TAKE A CHAINSAW TO YOUR GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE FACE!" screeched Jason. This argument had started over how many seasons of Fraiser there were... it was that kind of week.

They had been going at it in the dining room of the manor for a good (or more appropriately bad) 25 minutes. It was one of those ugly fights Bruce and Jason needed to have every few months to get everything off their chests to keep one of them from caving the other's head in with a large stick. 

The veins in Bruce's forehead were probably visible from space at this point. Alfred looked on disapprovingly in the corner of the room, having long since given up on stopping this madness. He was only still there to make sure they didn't bring any of his crockery into the matter.

"WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DIFFICULT?! YOU KNOW I ONLY WANT WHAT'S BEST FOR YOU!" Bruce roared back.

"I'M NOT YOUR LITTLE PET, BRUCE. STOP TRYING TO FUCKING CONTROL MY LIFE YOU ASSHOLE!" shouted Jason.

"I FAIL TO SEE HOW ASKING YOU TO STOP FUCKING SWEARING ALL THE TIME MAKES ME AN ASSHOLE!" 

Jason got right up in the man's face, not giving a shit about the massive height and weight difference between them. "WELL _I_ FAIL TO SEE WHY THE FUCK I SHOULD TAKE ORDERS FROM YOU! YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER, YOU'RE WAY MORE OF A CHILD THAN A FUCKING PARENT!"

"AND WHERE _ARE_ YOUR PARENTS JASON? HUH? IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME YOU WOULD HAVE DIED PENNILESS ON THE STREET WITH JUNK RUNNING THROUGH YOUR VEINS JUST LIKE THEM!"

Absolute. Fucking. Silence. Even the wind outside stopped somehow. Jason clenched his fists, face almost literally boiling with rage. Bruce immediately realised what an awful, terrible, hideous thing he just said. "Jason I'm so s--" Jason punched his adopted father as hard as he fucking could right in the face, and Bruce let him. "I deserved that."

Jason didn't say anything, he couldn't. If he opened his mouth he'd probably just end up screaming and never stop. All he could do was storm out of the room and slam the door as hard as he could, which he did, almost breaking the sound barrier in the process.

Alfred was left speechless also. He left the room giving Bruce the kind of look you never want Alfred Pennyworth to give you.

Bruce stood alone in the empty room, sighing into his hands.

 

"Brucetopher Wayne!" Dick chastised on the other end of the phone.

"I know, I know. I feel awful." admitted Bruce.

"Where is he now?" asked Dick.

"He snuck out an hour ago. If he goes to your apartment, please let me know."

"Sure thing, Bruce." Dick hung up the phone and turned to Jason, who was sitting on the couch next to him. "He feels terrible."

"Poor him." muttered Jason, crossing his arms.

"You know he didn't mean it, right?"

Jason didn't reply, he just turned his attention back to the wrestling match on TV. "I can't believe they're still pushing Roman Reigns as a good guy."

"In fairness, the fans vs Roman Reigns feud is one of the only interesting storylines in the whole company right now." joked Dick. Jason chuckled.

 

"Master Dick." greeted Alfred at the front door of Wayne Manor the next morning.

"What's that smell?" asked Dick walking into the hallway and sniffing the air.

"Ah, Master Bruce has burnt his toast. I have refused to cook for him for a week after his simply ghastly comments last night."

They walked into the dining room to find Bruce gingerly nibbling his black crusty toast and reading the paper in his bathrobe. "Dick." he said. "Is this about Jason? Why do you have a clipboard?"

Dick took the clipboard from under his arm and handed it to Bruce.

"What is this?" enquired Bruce as he started skimming the three page document.

"A contract." Dick explained. "Jason has agreed to return to the Manor if he gets to--"

"--"Kick that motherfucker right in the scrote"." quoted Bruce.

"Correct. So just sign it and he'll be back here tomorrow."

"I don't think that this contract will be binding in a court of law." mocked Bruce.

"It's the sentiment of signing it. He put a lot of work into it."

Bruce flipped through the rest of the document. "This is just three pages of different ways of saying he wants to kick me in the testicles: "Punt that nutcase right in his nutbag, wallop that shithead right in his ballsack, footpunch the prick right in the dick--""

"Just sign the thing Bruce."

"...No." quavered Bruce. "I would prefer that my nutbag remain intact."

"Well you should have thought of that before you said what you said. Now sign the damn contract." ordered Dick.

"Fine." sighed Bruce, turning to the last page. "What's this about a DVD?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. I will film and edit a documentary about the event which you will have to watch with Jason every year on his birthday."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Whatever." Dick handed him a pen and Bruce signed the contract, making the ball-kicking official.

"Fantastic." celebrated Dick. "I'll stop by later with the camera to film interviews for the documentary."

"Can I be interviewed for the film also?" requested Alfred.

"Of course, I want this doc to be as thorough and detailed as I possibly can."

Bruce was really starting to regret learning to speak as a toddler.

 

 

"Is this really necessary?" grumbled Bruce, as Dick was adjusting one of the eight cameras he had set up in the living room of the manor to capture the nut kicking of the century.

"Extremely necessary." answered Dick.

"The most necessary ever." added Jason, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Really? _Eight_ cameras?" Bruce complained.

"Nine." corrected Alfred, entering the room with his old film camera. "I will also be taking a snap or two for my private collection."

"Excellent." drawled Bruce.

"It really is." said Jason.

"Ok." began Dick. "Everything is in order, lets get to it."

Jason took practice swings at the air, grinning like an idiot. He had long moved passed what Bruce had said, the happiness he felt from actually being allowed to kick Bruce in the balls completely eclipsed the anger he felt yesterday.

"Spread your legs, big guy." ordered Dick.

"That's what Catwoman said." giggled Jason, pleased that he got that one on camera.

Bruce sighed, spread his legs and closed his eyes. He spent years training his body, his mind to block out pain. He could easily-- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THE PAIN. OH MY GOD FUCK. FUCKING FUCK. COCKSHITTING FUCKTITS. 

Before he knew it, Bruce was on all fours on the floor gagging as Jason celebrated his monumental achievement.

"Oh shit." mumbled Dick. "We're going to have to do that again, I forgot to press record on all the cameras."

The pain prevented Bruce from being able to formulate speech effectively. So instead of saying "Fuck the fucking fuck off you bag of asses." he made... a noise. A loud noise. Like a 20% screech, 40% wail, 20% moan and 20% sob.

"Just kidding, B. Chill out." giggled Dick.

"Very funny you fucking ass shit." came out of Bruce's mouth as "FCAAAAAUUUUUURNGT"

"Bruce, where does it hurt?" teased Jason.

Alfred knelt down in front of Bruce and aimed his camera at his red contorted face. "Say cheese, Master Bruce!"

Bruce clenched his fist and drove it as hard as he could through the wooden floor. Jason turned to Dick and hugged him. "This is the greatest day of my life." He turned back to the crumpled heap that was now Bruce. “By the way, I looked it up and you were right, Frasier _did_ have 11 seasons.”

 

_**1 Year Later** _

Dick walked into the living room of Wayne Manor to find Tim on his own doing homework. "Bruce in the cave?"

"Yeah." answered Tim. "He's been really quiet and weird--er than usual today. Says there's some big important case he needs to work on. Something to do with Kite Man."

"Kite Man?" echoed Dick. "The man who can fly like a kite and that's it?"

"He said it was super important and that I shouldn't disturb him."

"Has he slept the last few days?" quizzed Dick.

"No. Is something going on with him?"

"It, uh, it would have been Jason's birthday today."

"...Oh." Tim didn't know what to say. "Yikers." Nice one, Tim. Solid choice.

"Yeah. If only there was some way he could see Jason aga--" Dick stopped himself and smiled. "Do me a favour Timmy, go make some popcorn. It's time for the world premiere of 'Man Gets Hit With Foot: A Dick Grayson Motion Picture'."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago but then took it down because I didn't like that it such high views relative to the low quality of it but fuck it I don't have standards anymore. Anyway hope you liked it!


End file.
